Of Love Bites and Red Waters
by DRoWN.uNTo.Me
Summary: Now: Rem likes Sev who likes Herms who likes Draco who likes Gin who likes Blaise who likes Harry who likes Ron who likes...but wait. These are all liable to change. Controlled by: estrogen, testosterone, other crap. Bad summary. Better than it sounds.
1. Sugar Rush

Story: Of Love Bites and Red Waters

Story: Of Love Bites and Red Waters

Chapter 1: Sugar Rush

By the time we're done with you, you won't know which way is up. But we do believe you'll be happy and surprised.

…unless you somehow miraculously performed some Legilimency…

The Bloody Baron turned his silvery-opaque head to look at her, though he saw nothing. She'd just bled into transparency not one second before he looked to her direction. He knew she was there. Of course he knew. But it was still a comforting thought that he couldn't actually see her.

Sigh.

Big Sigh.

It was over three centuries since her last breath, two centuries and fifty years since she realized she loved him, zero years, zero hours, and zero seconds since she'd stopped loving him.

Oh good gods.

She was always taken aback by the force of the love that he had instilled in her when they were alive. And she could only appreciate it _after_ she was dead. Typical, really.

She Sighed again. The love of her death turned and floated toward the castle. No doubt to go search for the love of _his_ death. Sir Nicholas, the foggy bastard. Well, she supposed that this was Death's little joke. And Life was in on it too. _I loathe the both of you,_ she cursed in her mind. When they were alive, she could barely stand to be in the same room as him. Now they were dead, and she couldn't seem to stay away. "Serves you right, Grey Lady" Life whispered in her ear. She scowled. Death sighed dreamily, "It was my _brilliant_ idea…"

Harry was tired of rolling his eyes, but there was no other way to indicate or convey his skepticism. He may love Ron, but that did not necessarily mean that he was impervious or indifferent to the boy's idiocy.

"Ron," Hermione said slowly, rubbing her temples with closed eyes, "I highly doubt that Dumbledore has a secret infatuation with Harry."

"But," he began saying.

"No."

"But-"

"_No_, Ron."

"But you don't get it!"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you see the way he _TOUCHES_ Harry?!"

"WHAT!" Hermione was disturbed, her calculating mind whirring through memories.

"It's always on the shoulder, but it always seems…_deeper_."

"This is getting _A BIT_ odd for me," Harry interrupted, pointedly looking at Hermione the Logical and Pensive One, only to be shushed.

"What do you mean, Ron?"

Oh god. Hermione was being sucked in. REALLY. They didn't have the time to deal with fighting Voldemort and protecting Harry's virtue from the likes of Dumbledore. So you can see why Harry was tired of rolling his eyes.

Harry was tired of rolling his eyes, eh? He was complaining and yet…

Halfway across the world, someone was struggling to live.

All right, so it was more like halfway across the country, but Draco didn't want it to be. He _was,_ however, struggling to live. No one actually noticed how depressed the fairly young Malfoy heir was. His friend Blaise Zabini had taken notice of a few signs, such as the lack of enthusiasm when praised by the elder Malfoy, but brushed it off as a combination of lack of coffee and an overabundance of family disputes (the most common and well-known being that Lucius wanted his son to get married to Pansy Parkinson so they could essentially triple their holdings and so Draco could have his own pureblooded heir, but Draco stoutly refused). Other than that, no one paid any mind.

Not that Draco thought that anyone _would_ care.

But someone did care.

He just didn't know it.

And why should he? Why would anyone notice the Gryffindor Lioness Official Bookworm (a.k.a GLOB) acting like anything less than the GLOB?

She hid it well, all right.

Hermione was actually a very sly-minded woman (what woman isn't?) and had noticed Slytherin's Incarnate Prince Salazar (a.k.a. SIPS) losing his sparkle and shine. Not that he was _that_ good-looking before she noticed him becoming depressed. His skin was like a translucent barely off-white sheet of cloth (which made her want to touch…er…_not_ touch it, she mentally corrected herself), his cheekbones high (it really wasn't _that_ attractive), his jaw defined and...oh! Hermione gave herself a mental slap and huffed (which Harry and Ron took as a "would the both of you shut up about Dumbledore and his so called 'infatuation' with Harry?!"). Ok, fine, so he _was_ handsome and dashing and whatnot. But that didn't _really _mean much in the eyes of the GLOB.

And _no_, she _didn't_ like him.

Hermione was quickly becoming very well acquainted with her dishonest self.

And so was Severus Snape.

Denial. He hated the word, loathed it. And yet somehow it was still present in his vocabulary. He believed the cause of this being so he could taunt his fellow coworkers (honestly, who _couldn't_ see that there was something going on between Poppy and Albus?). He was wrong, of course. (And he knew it. Though, if you hadn't realized, he _was _in denial). It suddenly popped up and then the adjective astoundingly referred to him as soon as he realized a certain bushy-haired Know-It-All was no longer a bushy-haired Know-It-All at all, but was in fact a lovely young woman with a delicate neck, dainty ankles, and curls that screamed for him to touch them.

Severus placed his head in his hands.

_Dear God._

He was acting like a hormonally challenged, smitten, foolish, fawning, beef-witted, dizzy-eyed, loggerheaded, imbecilic _lout_.

Yes, he really thought that of himself.

However, a certain full-moon-phobic man would strongly disagree with that declaration- even after all these years.

Remus Lupin tried many a time to rid his thoughts of romantic aspirations. He simply could not handle it if he created a cursed half-monster or anything remotely like him, nor could he handle the idea that he might hurt the object of said affections.

But sometimes, weeding out thoughts just doesn't cut it.

Remus knew this better than anyone.

Try as he might, what he learned was that trying to suppress his thoughts would only make them stronger and would make his heart ache even more every time he saw the bastard. Said object of full-moon-phobic man's affections was a bastard because he was indifferent to the sight of this poor, smitten Lupin. Not, that it was his fault, really. It's not as if Snape knew that his former enemy and coworker had the hots for him.

And I'm quite sure that he would like to keep it that way.

But the question is will _we_ keep it that way?

**I am grateful for any reviews that may pop up! Hope you liked the story. Isn't it hilarious?!**


	2. Accidents

**Chapter 2:** _Accidents_

Apologies! There are some considerably large gaps in this love amoeba that we have going on here…

So as we have previously mentioned, Draco didn't think that anyone would care.

But that didn't mean that he didn't _hope_ someone would care.

That person that filled him with hope was actually a feisty redhead that amused him to no end.

Ginevra Weasley.

He'd had no idea how his feelings came around. One day, he had thrown some snide remarks her way and he realized that she really was quite beautiful when she became angry, a blazing fury in her eyes. With that thought, Draco had taken time (about a month, give or take a week) to deliberate his feelings. He had gone through scenario after scenario, reason after reason, to figure out why the bloody hell he'd thought that. There was only one answer that fit perfectly.

He _liked_ her.

Bloody hell.

He liked _her_.

He was horrified.

_He _liked her.

It made perfect and absolutely no sense!

_He. Liked. Her._

Draco couldn't wrap his mind around the idea. It was just simply…so far-fetched! So…so…so unbelievable!

And while this depressed Malfoy was given a highly consuming distraction, the main reason for the distraction was struggling herself.

Ginny was in a state of hysterics.

Fortunately, no one had noticed. It has been hardest to avoid Hermione's pensiveness, but all Ginny had to do was remind her of the war, and poof! Pensive, speculating, caring, _annoyingly close_ Hermione was gone, and was instead replaced with the overly-worried, GLOB-ish, logical, _determined_ Hermione.

Yes, it was very fortunate that no one knew about Ginny's inner turmoil. She wasn't sure that she herself could take the truth.

Every time she saw his smooth, cocoa skin, her skin tingled. Every time she heard his deep, soothing voice, her stomach jumped. Every time he made eye contact, she would feel a blush creeping up from her neck, just because of the dark intensity of his enchanting eyes. Every time she simply heard his name, or saw him walk by, or noticed anything that had to do with him, her heart would flutter maddeningly in her chest.

Ginny _really_ wasn't sure if she could handle this.

But of course, she had to. She was the firecracker of the family, an inherited trait from her grandmother. She was the hardworking, hard-to-break, reliable, independent, loyal, and _completely smitten_ Weasley.

Merlin's button holes!

She kept on telling herself that it was only because Blaise Zabini was the gorgeous, tall, dark, and handsome type. Girls everywhere were swooning over his long lashes, his delicate yet firm hands, his luscious black curls…

Ginny Weasley, however, knew that she was lying to herself.

Not to mention her boyfriend.

Oh, but don't worry, you readers, Seamus Finnegan wasn't a perfect angel either.

And the choice for his mental and emotional infidelity was so obvious that Seamus himself was surprised at how good an actor he was. It was hard at first, to admit it, but then Seamus came to terms with himself.

His father, after all, had left. But it wasn't because Seamus' mother was a witch, as he'd actually thought. It was because Seamus' father was gay.

So with that little piece of information, Seamus decided that before he got a woman pregnant with his baby, he would admit it to himself that he was gay.

But that didn't mean he had the guts to tell Ginny that he was actually in love with his roommate and best friend, Dean Thomas.

No, no, he _definitely_ didn't have the guts to inform the self-proclaimed firecracker of his findings.

Nor did he have the stamina to also inform his said friend, roommate, and love.

Oh, the sweet, sweet, naïve little couple. They didn't realize that they were lying to each other.

But let me tell you about someone who knew all about messed up love.

That person was actually Blaise Zabini.

And oh, did he have a story to tell _you_.

It all happened one Pre-Christmas evening. The Great Hall was bedecked in red streamers, green trees, and glowing gold and silver ornaments. Festive candles floated around the heads of laughing students, getting ready to leave and celebrate the holidays. For some reason unbeknownst to him, Blaise noticed that Harry Potter was looking put out.

If that wasn't random, he didn't know what was.

But Blaise, slightly confused, returned to his evening feast and once again tried to raise Draco's spirits (sadly, to no avail).

It was not until dessert, however, that Blaise once again glanced randomly in Mr. Messy-Mop-Of-Hair's direction. This action, surprisingly, did not go unnoticed by him, and Blaise found himself staring at unusually bright green eyes from across the room. He raised an eyebrow at the glare he was receiving, which only caused the pretty eyes to narrow even more. Blaise let a smirk play on his face, raising his eyebrow higher. This earned him a final look of floo-like fire, and then the boy snapped his head back to his friends.

Blaise clucked his tongue and chuckled.

So he was being judged because of the crest on his robes, was he? Silly, silly little Gryffindors. Nothing amused him more than the Slytherdor house rivalry and the extent of people's actions to annoy, injure, and/or curse someone of the opposing house.

Well, he'd be damned if he gave up on that little rivalry.

If Potter thought that he was an asshole for simply being placed in Slytherin, then by Merlin he would prove him right.

Blaise's smirk grew wider and more pronounced as the natural Slytherin slyness crept into his scheming mind.

Oh, the simple things that would piss Harry Potter off.

Yes, Blaise Zabini was going to have a field day.

As a surge of students clamored to get out of the Great Hall, eager to get home, Blaise Zabini took on a casual stroll. Soon after, the halls started clearing up as students went to grab their bags. His smirk lowered its intensity for a minute.

"Oops," he said slowly, as his shoulder collided with another.

Blaise found it highly amusing as he watched the world-renowned hero struggling to get back on his own two feet. With a slight smirk, he offered his hand to Harry. Emerald eyes glaring back, the eyes' owner stumbled upright.

"I don't need your help," Harry snapped, annoyed with the smirk playing on the Slytherin's lips.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the [slightly] unprovoked (alright, so that was a flat out lie) scathe.

"Yes, well, that remains to be seen, my dear, annoyed little angst-y hero," he drawled and slipped past Harry.

And so Phase One was born.

In the course of these Phases taking place, however, Blaise found himself taking on a new light. Or, perhaps it was a dark. He still couldn't decide.

All he really knew was that he figured his feelings out more quickly than his dear friend Draco. Why was that? It was simply because Blaise didn't lie to himself…nor was he as dense when it came to emotions. He found it a waste of time. So, he decided that he would simply phrase the entire thought instead of wasting time trying to say that it wasn't true.

He, Blaise Zabini, liked Harry Potter.

Oh, and how our dear, little, dark-eyed beauty handled the situation. He stopped with the Phases, because in all honesty, Blaise realized that they were simply childish. However, after he stopped the Phases, the silly Potter still glowered at him during unprovoked intervals.

And no, Blaise wasn't one of those pathetic people who thought, _Well at least he's noticing me_. No. That simply, in no way, sat well with him.

His new goals were to make the Potter boy realize that:

Harry, you are a homosexual, and if not that, you are at the very least a bisexual.

Harry, you like Blaise.

Harry, you want to go out with Blaise.

You see, Blaise's theory was that everyone was gay, even if it's only a little part of them. But he didn't realize how right he was. Nor did he realize that Harry had already realized that he was bisexual.

Ron didn't know either, to tell the truth, but that was no surprise…

TBA! How're you liking it so far? I know that it takes me forever to update, but I have no time and I really want this to come out great. Reviews are psychedelic! (I'm in this group on facebook…"Psychedelic Makin' Its Comeback"…that's why I'm using the word "psychedelic")


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